Stress Will Do That to a Girl
by TraceyI
Summary: Stress and raging hormones lead to desperate actions. GWHP
1. Ch 1, The Redheaded Girl

Stress Will Do That to a Girl

By TraceyI

This is a work of fan fiction. The characters, settings, and places, as well as certain original words, used in this work are the property of J.K. Rowling; Scholastic Inc.; Warner Brothers Entertainment; and possibly others. In other words, spectacularly wealthy people and corporate behemoths that are not I.

The author will not receive any remuneration for presenting the work. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the private enjoyment of readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the express written consent of the author.

Rated M just to be on the safe side for some very naughty words and upcoming deeds between teenagers. Please review; all suggestions are most welcome.

Chapter 1

The Redheaded Girl

When she scowled and stomped down the hallway to class, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. Her fellow students quaked in fear when she approached and got the hell out of the way as fast as they could, trying desperately to avoid making eye contact with her.

She entered the Potions classroom in the dungeon. Stomp stomp stomp to her cauldron, which was still caked with the previous day's fiasco. Stomp stomp stomp as she gathered ingredients. Professor Snape was about to deduct points from Gryffindor on account of "attitude," but even he hesitated to cross the redheaded fifth year.

Only ten minutes into a double Potions class, and already things were going awry. Her potion turned black and a single large bubble rose in it slowly, slowly. She held her breath. When the bubble finally burst, it did so all over her Potions textbook, her class notes, her hair, and her robes, leaving them all covered in gobs of a black, tarry substance. Which proceeded to form pseudopodia that spread themselves out further, making for all the nooks and crannies.

"Fuck!" the girl shouted, hurling the cauldron across the room and into the far wall, where it burst into bright purple flames, singeing the eyebrows of those unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity.

The entire class tried to hide themselves from the girl's wrath in various ways, ducking under tables and holding up textbooks – and even fellow students – as shields. The girl stormed from the room, slammed the door so hard that bottles fell off shelves, and stomped down the hall to the lavatory.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor."


	2. Ch 2, Have You Ever?

Harry Potter et als. still do not belong to me. I suspect the status of that will remain quo.

Chapter 2

Have You Ever...?

Hermione Granger tapped fearfully on the girls' lavatory door.

"Ginny?" she whispered.

The only response she received was the sound of sobs mixed with something slamming into a stall door.

"Ginny, it's me, Hermione," she whispered slightly more loudly.

"Go away!" came the shrieked reply. It was at least two octaves higher than the redheaded girl's normal voice. Something heavy smashed against the bathroom door.

"Fuck this," muttered Hermione, as she turned tail and headed back down the hallway.

Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were peering nervously from around a turn. Ron's left cheek bore fingernail tracks. Harry just looked haunted. They barred Hermione's passage.

"Hermione," Ron begged, "you've got to go back and talk with her! She's gone completely mental." Harry mutely nodded his agreement.

"I'm not crazy, Ronald," Hermione sniffed. "You do it."

"I tried!" Ron whined. "She almost scratched my eye out! Come on, you're her friend."

"What about Harry?" Hermione threw a look at The Boy Who Lived. "He's supposed to be her boyfriend." Harry wordlessly thrashed his head from side to side, waving his hands back and forth in front of himself and wearing a look of abject terror.

"Fine!" Hermione huffed. "You both had better be right outside the door with your wands ready, though."

Hermione tentatively made her way back down the hall to the girls' lavatory, took a deep breath, knocked and poked her head in the door. She was ready to pull it back at a moment's notice.

"Ginny?"

"What?" came the miserable reply.

Hermione straightened and came slowly through the door, her hands out in front of her as if she were approaching a growling dog, maybe even one with a little bit of foam coming from its mouth. She cautiously stepped over the tattered remains of the Potions textbook that had been flung at the door, and her eyes took in the stall door hanging by one hinge. Moving painfully slowly, she glanced into the stall and found Ginny sitting on the floor. The younger girl had managed to cast off the black ooze; Hermione thought that Ginny had done this simply by yelling at it, as the tarry substance was making its way toward the drain in the lavatory floor as fast as its pseudopodia would carry it.

Hermione sat cross-legged in front of Ginny, who looked a wreck. Her creamy skin had gone sallow, and she had huge bags under her eyes.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Hermione asked as gently as she could, wincing in expectation of her friend's fury.

"I don't know," Ginny mumbled. She took a breath. "I'm late," she amended.

"Late for what?" Hermione asked quizzically. "I haven't heard the class bell go."

"Not that kind of late," Ginny exclaimed in exasperation, her tone rising again. "You know, late late."

Hermione pondered for a moment before understanding dawned on her. She put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, Ginny, do you mean you're pregnant?" She stared. "Wait a minute. _Harry_ got you pregnant? Harry _Potter_?"

Ginny looked at Hermione as though she had grown another head. Hermione instinctively threw her hands up in front of her face. "No, Hermione," Ginny stated petulantly. "It's the bloody stress. Between preparing for my O.W.L.s – I really am going to kill Snape, you know – Quidditch, and being instantly famous as the Girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived, all I want to do is sleep but I have horrible nightmares, I'm starving all the time but nothing tastes good, nothing I read stays in my head, I'm bloated like a scared puffer fish, I've got cramps from hell, and I'm three weeks late. I've got the worst P.M.S. in history, and it just keeps building up every day with no release. If I don't get my period before my O.W.L.s begin, there may well be a fatality during Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm really losing it."

Hermione thought that this last bit was an understatement, but since Ginny had actually strung together a few sentences without causing anyone physical injury, she decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Instead, she went into "practical Hermione" mode.

"Have you spoken to Madam Pomfrey? I'm sure she can give you something that will help."

Ginny nodded miserably. "I've taken every goddamned herb in the infirmary. Nothing."

Hermione looked at her incredulously. "Come now, you haven't taken everything."

"Oh yes I have!" Ginny retorted, her voice rising. Hermione ducked, then rose up slowly. "I've even taken gillyweed because I heard that your period always starts when you don't want it to, like when you're going swimming, and I'm a terrible swimmer!"

Again, Hermione kept her opinion of this approach to herself. She gently tried to reason with Ginny. "Ginny, I know you're completely stressed out, but you have to calm down."

"I know." Ginny looked like she was going to start crying again. "I can't even talk to Harry. I think he's afraid of me."

"Ginny, everybody's afraid of you," Hermione said, trying to lighten the mood. "Ron looks like he's been attacked by a panther, you hit Malfoy with the nastiest Bat Bogey Hex in the history of Hogwarts, and Harry, well, Harry is having some version of what the Muggles call Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome. You've got to stop."

There was a silence.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Ginny asked, a tremor in her voice and tears starting to spill.

Hermione patted her friend's hand gently and dropped her head forward as she thought. Suddenly, her head jerked back. "Hey, I just thought of something. It's an old Muggle wives' tale, but it just might work!"

"I'm willing to try anything," Ginny moaned. "Tell me!"

Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it again. She squirmed a little. "Um… This is a little delicate."

"What is it?" Ginny demanded, another octave higher.

"Well, Ginny, have any of your boyfriends ever made you c…" The older girl trailed off, her cheeks reddening. She tried again. "When you were with Dean, did he…" She hesitated again.

Ginny was obviously getting agitated and started to hyperventilate. "Out with it!" she shrieked.

Hermione flinched, then steeled herself. She moved from sitting on the floor to kneeling in front of Ginny, taking both of the red head's hands and looking her straight in the eye with her most clinical expression. "Ginny, have you ever had an orgasm?"


	3. Ch 3, You're Kidding, Right?

**Disclaimer: Although today is a holiday and there is no mail delivery, so I have no definitive proof, I must nevertheless assume that I have not recently become the owner of Harry Potter.**

**Thank you for the great reviews. (I've never seen a review of a disclaimer before!) Please keep them coming.**

**And am I really the only one whose mother told her this? Perhaps then it is my mother who is the witch!**

**Chapter 3**

**You're Kidding, Right?**

* * *

For a moment there was no answer. Hermione let go of Ginny's hands and put her hands up to her own face defensively, hunching down in fear. But the expected shit-storm did not arrive; instead, it veered offshore and headed out to sea. 

"Well… No."

Hermione straightened up again, her incredulity making her throw caution to the wind and challenge her friend. "What? What do you mean 'no'? You're kidding, right?" Then she remembered herself and held her breath.

Ginny shrugged. "Do I really seem to be in a kidding mood right now? Dean was only in it for himself. We only did it a couple of times, but it really didn't do anything for me. And Harry…" Here she looked a little wistful. "Harry's such a gentleman. All we ever do is kiss, hold hands, and snuggle. I can't even get him to touch my boob, let alone my... I have three roommates and six brothers, so I don't get a lot of 'alone' time, either."

Hermione shuddered. Mentally, she made categories: things I wanted to know over here, and all this stuff waaaay over there.

"Well," Hermione announced decisively, getting to her feet and pulling Ginny with her. "Ginevra Weasley, we've gotta get you laid."

* * *

Ginny's spirits seemed a little brighter. Until she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, that is. Then the tears began with renewed vigor. "Who is going to want to…to…tou…touch me?" she sobbed. 

Hermione put her arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Well, that's a good question," she mused aloud.

Ginny shot her a death glare that made the older girl remove her arm and take a giant step back.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione hastened to amend, her hands in front of her in a placating and, just in case, defensive gesture. "We simply need to have a plan. Whom do you want to sleep with that might actually have some idea what he is doing?"

Ginny's face fell. "I only want to sleep with Harry!" she moaned, tears brimming her eyes yet again. Hermione marveled that she had any tears left. "But it's going to be a bloody disaster the first time, isn't it? Well, what am I supposed to do?" she demanded, her voice rising again. Hermione was getting tired of this and began counting on her fingers.

"Let's see. We'll stick a pin in Harry for now, shall we? There must be some kind of potion or spell we can use on him. Who else has a body and some idea of how to use it? Well, there's Ron of course," she smiled, lost in thought.

"_What?_" Ginny shouted. "He's my brother! That's disgusting!"

Hermione jerked from her reverie. "Whoops! Forgot whom we were trying to get a man for, just for a second there."

Ginny gave Hermione a strange look, then shook her head as Hermione continued.

"You said Dean's a loser in that department. What about Neville?"

Ginny snorted. "Um, no."

"Snape?"

Ginny jumped, thought for a moment, a slight smile touching her lips. "Nice body."

"You mean you've noticed it too?"

"Well, of course. But in any case he's too…blech. Besides," Ginny added, "I'm going to kill him, remember?"

Hermione started laughing, then trailed off. She wasn't sure her friend was joking.

"I know! What about Firenze?"

Ginny shook her head testily. "Let's try to keep it to the same species, shall we?"

Hermione nodded. "Malfoy?"

"Whew, SERIOUSLY nice ass on that one, I'll admit, but even in my current state of desperation I realize that that is Bad Idea Theatre."

"Anybody else I'm not thinking of?" Hermione asked.

"Not really. All the boys in my year are inexperienced gits."

"Then Harry it is," Hermione announced with finality.

Ginny nodded. "Harry it is."


	4. Ch 4, Harry It Is

**Disclaimer: The mail has arrived. Sadly, it did not contain my Golden Ticket in the J.K. Rowling Invitational Sweepstakes, and it would appear that I still do not own Harry Potter.**

**Please review -- reading my reviews is almost as much fun as writing the story!**

**Chapter 4**

**Harry It is**

* * *

Hermione's frizzy head poked out of the lavatory door. "Ron?" she whispered. "Harry?" 

First a quaking wand, then the very top of Ron's head, red hair flaming, appeared from behind a suit of armor. "Is the coast clear?" he quavered.

"Merlin, you two are such wusses," Hermione huffed with disgust as she came out of the bathroom alone, grabbed Ron's arm, and dragged him from his safe zone. She reached behind where Ron had been, expecting Harry to be back there as well. When she didn't find the dark-haired boy, she looked quizzically up and down the hall. "Harry, you can come out now," she called.

From 100 feet down the hall came a strangled groan. Hermione walked over and found Harry lying in an alcove behind a large plant, curled up in a fetal position. For a brief moment, Hermione considered literally kicking him when he was down, then stopped herself. "Christ, I think maybe Ginny is rubbing off on me," she thought. Exasperatedly, she reached down and yanked Harry to his feet, then grabbed him roughly by both upper arms. "Harry, get a grip on yourself!" she ordered. "You've battled the Dark Lord and Dementors! You can deal with a hormonal girlfriend!" Harry flinched. Hermione loosened her grip and instead began to rub his upper arms, as if she were trying to rub away the finger impressions she had just left.

"Harry," she said soothingly, "everything is going to be OK. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to go to your classes for the rest of the day. Pay attention if you can; it will give you something else to think about. Then I want you to have a well-balanced, healthy dinner, nothing with garlic or onions." Harry's eyes widened in terror.

"Shhh," Hermione soothed, "everything is going to be OK. Are you still with me?" Harry nodded mutely. "Then I want you to have a nice, hot, soothing bath, followed by a nap. Can you do that for me, Harry? Can you do that for Ginny?"

At the mention of the redheaded girl's name, Harry blanched, his knees buckling slightly. Hermione tightened her grip on his upper arms and narrowly avoided shaking him. "What did I say, Harry?"

There was no answer.

"Harry," Hermione cajoled, "what did I tell you?"

Harry looked down at the floor. "'SgonnabeOK," he mumbled.

"What, Harry?" prodded Hermione, ducking down to get her face into his line of sight.

Harry took a deep breath but still did not look up. "It's going to be OK," he said softly.

"That's right, Harry, everything really is going to be OK," Hermione soothed, putting her arm around his shoulders. "Now remember, classes, healthy dinner, bath – remember to wash your hair, nap."

"Nap," Harry repeated.

"Yes, Harry, nap." Hermione patted his head. "Almost done. Then I want you to put on something nice, or at least something clean, comb your hair, and go to the common room at midnight."

Harry looked up, unsure.

"It's going to be OK, Harry," Hermione reassured him, she hoped for the last time. For a hero, she thought, he's an awfully big pussy.

Harry thought for a long moment, so long, in fact, that Hermione started to worry. Finally, he gave the slightest of nods. "Good, Harry." Hermione smiled her most beatific smile. "Now run along." She nudged him down the corridor. As Ron started to follow Harry, Hermione grabbed his arm and held him back, waiting for Harry to slowly disappear around the bend.

"Ron!" she whispered savagely. "Here's what you have to do. At 11:30, make sure Harry is awake and getting ready. Tell him he looks thirsty, and bring him some pumpkin juice. But make sure you put one tablespoon of the remaining Felix Felicis in it first."

Ron looked at Hermione as if she had gone as crazy as his sister. "What the bloody hell would he need Felix Felicis for?" he demanded.

"Well, Ron," Hermione said with a twinkle in her eye, "Harry is going to get lucky tonight."


	5. Ch 5, Too Much Sex on the Brain

**Disclaimer: I own many things. Big things, small things. A house, a car. Expensive artworks, tacky tchotchkes. Wanna know what I don't own? Harry freakin' Potter, that's what.**

**It's almost midnight! Please review.**

**Chapter 5**

**Too Much Sex on the Brain**

**

* * *

**­"Harry!" Harry jerked awake to find Ron shaking him. "You're having a nightmare, mate. Snap out of it." Harry fumbled for his glasses and stuck them on his sweaty face, trying to catch his breath. 

"Voldemort?" Ron asked gently, pointing to Harry's scar.

"Worse." After that, Harry just shook his head and would not answer any of Ron's questions. How could he? The dream had started off well enough, as did all his dreams of Ginny. She had been beautiful and willing and pliant in his arms, and he had been handsome and gallant and skilled. Then it had all gone wrong. Why had the day's Defense Against the Dark Arts class had to feature the _Vagina Dentata_, the dreaded creature with razor-sharp teeth where it was supposed to be soft, warm, and welcoming, snapping off important parts of a man's anatomy when he was at his most vulnerable?

Harry lay back down and pulled his pillow over his head. Ron grabbed the pillow away from him. "Oi!" Harry protested.

"Sorry, mate," Ron shook his head, pulling the covers from Harry's body. "Time to get up."

"Are you daft?" Harry asked, snatching back the covers. "It's the middle of the night."

"Hellooo?" Ron urged. "Midnight in the common room? Ring any bells?"

Fear flooded over Harry, and he turned as white as Nearly Headless Nick. He started trembling.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "Here, mate. Drink this." He pushed a glass of pumpkin juice into Harry's hands, and Harry gulped it down. Had he been just a little more aware of his surroundings, he might have wondered why Ron had a glass of pumpkin juice at the ready, and why it didn't taste quite right.

* * *

Ron couldn't believe he had let Hermione talk him into this. He was setting up his best friend to take advantage of his little sister. Or maybe it was vice versa. He was extremely confused, and it made his head hurt. 

"It's simple, Ronald," Hermione had said with clinical detachment, trying to explain for the umpteenth time. "It's beneficial for all concerned. You get to have a hand in 'curing' Ginny, and Harry gets to finally lose his virginity. You want Ginny to get better and do well on her O.W.L.s, right?"

Ron nodded uncertainly, remembering his mostly passing, but less than stellar, performance on his own exams.

Hermione took a different tack. "You want Ginny to stop physically attacking you, right?"

Ron nodded more definitely this time. "Christ, yes."

"And Harry deserves a good time for once, doesn't he?"

Ron screwed up his face and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So what's your problem?"

"I'm helping him shag my baby sister!" he exploded. "Doesn't that make me like a pimp or something?"

Hermione took Ron's hand in both of hers and rubbed it soothingly. Just how many goddamned people was she going to have to soothe today? When was somebody going to do something to help her with her stress levels? She pushed the thought to the side, determined to focus on helping Ginny. "Ronald, you are just going to have to get used to the fact that Ginny isn't a little girl anymore. She is a young woman with…desires and needs."

Ron clapped his hands over his ears and shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the image burning in his mind. When that didn't work, he started singing a Weird Sisters song. Still no luck.

Hermione ran her hand through her hair in frustration before grabbing Ron by the arms, trying to pull them down toward her. She hadn't counted on the fact that his upper arms were flexed to keep his hands on his ears. She realized with a shock that Ron's arms were not the reedy pipes of their first year, but had become muscular and well defined. When the hell did that happen? She too shook her head. I must have too much sex on the brain, she thought.

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking Ron. She shook him again, just to have an excuse to keep her hands on those biceps. "Stay with me here, will you? Are you in or out? It's very simple, really. All you have to do is slip Harry the Felix Felicis and let nature take its course. It will be good for both of them." She blushed at the inadvertent double entendre.

Ron slowly pulled his hands from his ears. He had to admit, he liked having Hermione touch him. Too much sex on the brain, he decided ruefully. He smiled.

"What are you grinning about?" Hermione asked warily.

Ron changed the subject. "And tell me one more time why I have to be involved?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because, Ronald. Ginny needs a strong physical release. An earth-shattering one. Am I making myself clear?"

Understanding dawned slowly on Ron. First he blushed deep red, then he paled. "OK, Hermione, we're getting dangerously close to Too Much Information here."

Ignoring him, Hermione pressed on. "You know I love Harry." Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Like a brother," Hermione quickly added. "But he's so shell-shocked, and so terrified of Ginny, that the chances of him being able to…_perform_," she said slowly, making Ron redden again, "are not very auspicious. And the results could be disastrous if he…_performs_ in an unsatisfactory fashion, or, um, fails to _perform_ at all."

At this, Ron felt an enormous wave of sympathy for Harry. He fought an overwhelming desire to place his hands protectively in front of his groin.

"So." Hermione felt like she was finally reaching the home stretch. "We – well, _you _–introduce a little luck, in the form of Felix Felicis, into the equation." She decided not to mention the fact that she and Ginny had spent a good twenty minutes discussing the pros and cons of various love potions, spells, and Muggle remedies she had seen advertised on television over winter break, that could be used on Harry. And she certainly wasn't going to mention that she and Ginny had considered using someone other than Harry for this particular…project.

"All right, I'm in." Ron nodded with resignation. "Just promise me that I won't have to hear all about it later. I'll start screaming in my sleep like Harry."


	6. Ch 6, Getting Lucky

**Disclaimer: Although I have waited several days to post this extended finale to allow J.K. Rowling ample time to contact me, it nevertheless appears that my evil plot has failed. J.K. Rowling has not read my story and asked me to (a) be her beta, (b) be her co-author, or (c) share ownership of Harry Potter. Damn.**

**Please review! I hope you've enjoyed reading my little tale.**

**Chapter 6**

**Getting Lucky**

* * *

A strange feeling came over Harry Potter. A sense of exhilaration started in his toes and worked its way up to his mussed hair. Harry stretched out his arms and felt his fingertips tingle. He looked up at Ron. "What have you done, Ron?" he demanded. 

Ron reddened. It occurred to him that he was doing that a lot lately. "Blame Hermione," he muttered. Then he looked Harry in the eye. "She, um, well, _we_ just thought you could use a little bit of extra luck tonight."

Harry burst from his bed. "Who needs luck?" he said confidently. "I'm the Boy Who Lived. I'm the Chosen One. I am the boy that every girl in this school dreams about at night."

Ron was appalled. "You know, Harry," he said sourly, "you're a right prick when you take Felix Felicis. I forgot about that."

"Whatever." Harry dressed with a burst of energy. He stripped, then started to pull on a clean pair of jeans. "Oi, Harry!" Ron protested with disgust. "Underwear, please, mate."

Harry grinned an infuriating, Master of the Universe grin and pulled on a pair of boxers. He put on a clean white shirt. "Tie or no tie?" he queried Ron.

"No tie, Harry," Ron said with exasperation. "It's not a test." (He smirked inwardly. Actually, it was. And for a moment, he almost hoped his friend would fail it. Then he remembered Hermione's dire warnings about the pain, death and destruction that might follow if Ginny didn't have a good time, and he got confused again.)

Harry tossed the tie aside and opened two buttons at his collar. The barest sprinkling of chest hair showed through the open vee at his throat. He grabbed his wand and looked in the mirror. With a whispered incantation, his hair neatened itself, leaving just a couple of sexy pieces to hang down perfectly over his forehead and obscure his scar.

* * *

Harry bounded down the steps to the common room. It was exactly midnight. It was dark, and he saw the outline of a definitely feminine form by the embers in the fireplace, hair swept into a loose knot at the back of her head. He came from behind and embraced the woman, nuzzling the nape of her neck. The woman spun around and pulled her wand. "Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, jumping back from her quickly. "I thought you were Ginny!" 

Hermione raised an eyebrow and eyed him approvingly from top to bottom. "Feeling lucky, are we, Harry?" she queried.

Harry once again closed the distance between himself and Hermione. "You have no idea, Hermione," Harry whispered sensually, looking down into her face. "Want to join us?"

"Jesus Christ, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, running around to the other side of an overstuffed armchair. "How much did Ron give you?" As Harry advanced on her again, she thrust a soft bundle at him. "Harry! Listen to me! Get your fucking hands off me." She slapped at his roaming fingers. "Put on your Invisibility Cloak and follow me through the portrait hole. Then make straight for the Room of Requirement. _Do not_ make any detours, and do not speak to anyone. You've got work to do, Harry. Now get ready!"

His spirits undampened, Harry did what he was told. Hermione gave the special prefect's password, and Harry invisibly slipped out into the darkened world of Hogwarts.

* * *

As if skimming on ice, Harry eased his way to the all-too-familiar seventh floor corridor and the incongruously blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls. He felt like a ballet dancer himself, his carriage upright, his stride long and graceful. 

Harry Potter felt like a million galleons as he shuffled off the Invisibility Cloak. He closed his eyes and walked past the magical door three times, concentrating: _Become the room where Ginevra Weasley waits for me._ He opened his eyes, his supreme confidence rewarded with a door that had not been there before. Barnabas the Barmy gave Harry the thumbs up, and Harry winked a confident reply. He checked his unusually perfect coif in the mirror to verify that the Cloak had not mussed it again and rapped on the door.

"You're late!" a high-pitched feminine voice hollered from inside the room. His new best friend Felix told him to ignore the small voice in the back of his mind that told him to cut and run, and he swept through the door gallantly. He casually held the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulder by two crooked fingers, giving Ginny the odd impression that his fingers and arm were being pulled over his shoulder by nothing.

Harry tossed the cloak onto a coat rack by the door, which promptly partially disappeared, casually flipping door locking and _muffliato_ charms around the room. He turned to see Ginny, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly in a long, loose peasant dress. Despite hours of Hermione's ministrations, her makeup was smudged from her incessant crying and her hairdo was coming undone from her constant nervous fussing with it. She winced under the room's bright light, which illuminated everything in the room: two teenagers, a coat rack, and a small bed.

Harry looked around the room, clucking with disappointment. "This will never do," he said, shaking his head.

"Wh…wha…what?" Ginny demanded angrily before dissolving into sobs.

Harry responded with the same grin that had made Ron want to put out his lights merely a few minutes before and crossed the floor in two long, smooth strides. In one graceful motion, he put his left arm around Ginny's upper back and his right around her waist, dipping her halfway to the ground. He held her that way and looked into her eyes for just a split second before capturing her mouth in an incredibly passionate kiss. Ginny let out a relieved sigh as her eyelids fluttered shut. She and Harry had had numerous snogging sessions before, but none of them had been anything like this. He completely overpowered her, his lips soft but forceful, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and running over her teeth.

Ginny's eyes popped open as she felt something hard pressing against her hip. "Harry!" she exclaimed in shock.

He pulled his head back for just a moment. He shifted his grip with his left arm, balancing all of Ginny's slight weight on it, and reached between them with his right hand. "It's only my wand," he said, sensually drawing it from his front pocket. His lips took hers again, and she closed her eyes once more. Harry's newly and incredibly talented lips simultaneously took Ginny to heights she had never attained previously while whispering spells.

When Harry finally returned Ginny to a dazed but upright position, she slowly opened her eyes and found to her shock that everything in the room had changed. There was now a king-sized four-poster bedroom set, complete with silk sheets, velvet blanket emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest, and many soft-looking pillows. The harsh lighting in the room had been replaced by dozens of flickering candles spread around the room, some in candleholders on nightstands, others in tall candelabra, and still others seemingly hanging in midair. They filled the room with the gentle, but not overpowering, scent of vanilla.

"It's all going to be OK, Ginny," Harry murmured huskily. "I'm here. Harry Potter is here."

Ginny began crying again, this time from gratitude. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and held him. He responded by kissing the tears from her eyes and cheeks. "Harry," she sobbed, "I'm sorry I've been such a raving bitch. The stress has been killing me and my hormones have gone crazy and everything I touch turns to disaster and it's been driving me crazy and…" Harry stopped her rambling with another kiss that melted her from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes. As he held her, he began to sway from side to side, and, with another flick of Harry's wand, soft romantic music wafted from everywhere and nowhere in particular.

Ginny was shocked. Although she was a fair dancer, the only time she had ever seen Harry dance was at the Yule Ball in his fourth year, and he had danced like an Inferius – stiff, jerky, and with sunken, sightless eyes. But right now, he actually seemed to be gliding as he led her around the room, dipping and twirling her until she was giddy. As if reading her mind, Harry grinned that infuriating grin again. "Felix is an excellent dance instructor," he said as he picked her up off the floor and spun her around.

When he allowed Ginny's feet to touch the ground again, he moved his hips against hers suggestively, kissing her hard. Ginny squirmed uncomfortably and pulled her lips from his. "Harry, your wand is poking me again."

Harry brought his right hand from around Ginny's waist, holding something in it. "That's not my wand," he said, indicating the item gripped in his hand. "That is." Ginny gasped. Harry grinned wickedly.

Once again, Harry swept Ginny into a passionate embrace and off her feet. This time, however, instead of putting her back down on the ground, he kept one arm behind her shoulders and slid the other arm down to behind her knees. Still kissing her, he strode over to the enormous bed and gently laid her down on it. Without breaking their kiss, Harry let his hands start to wander across Ginny's young, firm body. His Felix-infused fingers deftly opened the buttons down the front of her dress, pulling the gauzy material back from her shoulders as his lips nipped down the side of her neck.

Ginny moaned as Harry's tongue swirled in the hollow of her throat. Then he kissed his way back to the pulse point in her neck, teasing it with his teeth, lips and tongue, his kisses keeping time with the beating of her heart. It was all a magnificent symphony: as his hands cupped her breasts through the lace of her bra, her heart rate increased, and Harry's kisses on her throat kept time, as did the music, which Harry seemed to be controlling merely with his thoughts.

With a minimum of effort, Harry undid the front clasp of Ginny's bra, then lowered his head to suck first one, then the other pert nipple into his warm mouth. As his mouth, lips, tongue and teeth worked their special brand of magic, Harry's hands slowly wandered lower, and Ginny barely stifled a scream as his fingers brushed against her panties. She could feel the muscles of his face form an entirely different kind of grin as he felt the warm moisture radiating from her. Ginny arched her back up off the bed. And then he was gone.

Ginny opened her eyes, only to find Harry standing over her, gracefully and sexily unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off, along with his shoes, socks and jeans as Ginny frantically freed herself from her dress and shoes and scrambled under the covers. Harry stood before her proudly in just his boxers for a moment, as Ginny looked him over, starting at the top. Just a few wisps of hair hanging sexily over his scar, his face flushed, his eyes dilated with excitement, broad shoulders, well-developed chest and arms, the ideal smattering of chest hair, a perfect six-pack of abdominal muscles, and identical muscular cuts leading into the top of his boxers. That was as far as Ginny's eyes got. His boxers could barely contain his raging erection.

Ginny's eyes widened as Harry pulled back the covers and climbed into bed next to her. He kissed her again, first on the mouth, then down her neck and throat, once again lavishing equal attention on both breasts with his warm mouth and talented hands. Then he kissed his way down her belly again, his fingers dipping below the lacy waistband of her panties. Ginny's breathing became louder and faster as Harry slowly pulled off her panties and gently spread her legs apart. His eyes looking up at hers as she struggled to hold his gaze, he pursed his lips and gently blew on her most private of places.

Ginny marveled, knowing that Harry had never done this before. Apparently, Felix had memorized the Kama Sutra.

Ginny had almost lost all control by the time Harry's tongue snaked out to taste her exposed bundle of nerves. She shook as he sensually laved her inside and out, finally easing one finger into her tight, wet opening as he suckled gently on the bud of her femininity. As Harry slowly pumped his finger in and out of her, Ginny writhed on the bed, until her breathing finally came in gasps and her entire body quaked.

Just as Ginny was starting to float back down to earth, Harry crooked the finger that was still inside her, finding just he right spot to palpate as his tongue went back to its work. Within seconds, Ginny was quivering again, and a scream forced its way from her lips as she climaxed again.

Harry slowed everything down for a few moments, allowing Ginny's breathing to return to normal – almost. He ran his hands up her body, following them with his mouth, back up across her stomach, breasts, throat and neck to her mouth. He kissed her more deeply than he ever had before, and she could taste herself on his mouth.

Just as Harry positioned himself over the gateway to Ginny's beautiful body, he felt the warm tingling in his fingers and toes start to recede. As he buried himself inside her with one thrust, the Felix Felicis wore off completely, leaving just sixteen-year-old, inexperienced Harry Potter. He paused in terror at the bottom of his thrust and pulled his head back.

Ginny, her eyes closed, felt Harry's lips leave her own. She opened her eyes in concern and in an instant knew what had happened. He was back to his usual deer-in-the-headlights expression, his hair standing out from his head in every direction, his glasses askew. "Harry?" she asked plaintively. "It's OK, Harry. I love _you_, Harry Potter. You don't need Felix Felicis to be with me."

Harry took a trembling breath, his head falling forward into the crook between Ginny's neck and shoulder. After a moment, he picked up his head, pushed his glasses into place with one hand while balancing himself on his other arm and looked into Ginny's loving, lovely face. "I love you too, Ginny," he managed to get out, his body still buried deep within hers. She lifted her head off the pillow to kiss him, and he kissed her back gently before slowly starting to move his hips against hers, nervously at first, then with increasing speed and rhythm.

The music, which had faded into the background for both of them, filled the room, building to a crescendo as the two lovers did as well. Faster and faster, Harry built the pace. Ginny wrapped her legs around Harry's waist, her heels drumming against his muscular backside in time to his fevered thrusts.

Then the world exploded around them both into a million shards of color, like when the ghosts on horseback chased each other through the stained glass windows seven floors below. They screamed each other's names as Ginny's muscles contracted around him and Harry released himself into her, collapsing onto her before rolling over onto his back, Ginny's body wrapped around his.

* * *

Harry held Ginny in his arms, as they lay frozen in a moment between sleeping and waking. "Gin?" he whispered, kissing her hair and breathing in her scent. 

"Mmmm?" she murmured, snuggling against his chest and running her toes up and down his calf.

"I'm the luckiest bloke in the world."

They both smiled as they drifted off to sleep. This time, their dreams would be almost as good as their real life.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke from his first good night's sleep in three weeks. He stretched and reached across the soft bed. His arm patted the pillow beside his head experimentally. He was alone. Had it all been a dream? He sat bolt upright and opened his eyes. The room was out-of-focus and unfamiliar. He fumbled for the nightstand and found his glasses. The room resolved itself into in-focus and unfamiliar. The wax of dozens of burned out candles spilled everywhere. 

Confused, Harry looked all around the room. He was definitely alone. Realization slowly dawned on him that the sound that had awoken him was the sound of a shower running. He only realized this when the sound stopped. He looked around again and realized that there was a second door to the room that he had not noticed previously. He grinned to himself and made a mental note to find out whether there was a bathtub in here as well as a shower for the next time. He grinned even wider. Yes, he was certain – there would be a next time.

Just then, the bathroom door opened, and Ginny came out. Harry saw with great disappointment that she was dressed in her class robes, her wet hair leaving a damp shadow across her back.

"Good morning, Harry," Ginny said brightly.

"Morning, Ginny," Harry responded, blushing slightly. His naked body felt very exposed under the silk of the sheets.

Ginny walked over to him and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Sleep well?" she asked innocently.

"Like a baby," he answered honestly. "Best night of my life."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that too," he admitted with a dazzling smile.

Ginny kissed him again, quickly, on the mouth this time. She pulled back a fraction, her face close enough for him to count her freckles. "Harry," she whispered breathily.

Harry felt the sheets stir near his waist. She could do that to him just by whispering his name.

"Yes, Ginny?" he said, desire harsh in his throat.

She laughed softly, kissed him, and nuzzled around to his ear. "Get dressed," she breathed, blowing in his ear. "We're going to be late for class."

Harry groaned and reached for the redheaded girl. He quickly ran his hands over her hips to her waist, then pulled her down to the bed. In a surprisingly agile move, he rolled her body under his and kissed her passionately, tangling them both in the sheets. Something hard pressed insistently against Ginny's leg, and she knew that this time it was not his wand.

Coming up for a breath, Harry pushed himself up on his forearms. "Fuck class," he muttered, swooping in to take her lips again. "Better yet…" he grinned wickedly without finishing his sentence as he pressed her further into the bed with his body.

Ginny reached up, tickling him with a sneak attack to the two midpoints between his armpits and his nipples. Harry jerked back, and Ginny squirmed out from under him.

"Sorry, love," she said as she got off the bed, tossing her hair so that water sprayed his surprised face. "Can't. That time of the month."

_Fin_


End file.
